Children of the Underworld
by Kameroni
Summary: The Savior of Olympus has disappeared, and all manner of storms are brewing. When a quest calls for the children of the Cthonic gods, a reserved group of macabre teens set out together to rescue the legendary Percy Jackson. Meanwhile, a demigod leader older than Kronos is scheming, declaring Fate's will on his actions. But these guys are sick of Fate, and it's decreed death. No HoO
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Howdy. This is my first story, I began writing it a long time ago. Since then, it's taken a backseat to several other more original projects, but this was meant to be huge. It's not complete, but I want to upload what I have. For several years, I've read stories from this insanely creative community, and I just wanted to give a little something back. I'm not quite proud of the prologue, it's short, but it'll all make sense about thirty thousand words later. Enjoy!**

Prologue

You know me. You've heard my stories.  
But nothing like this.  
My name is Percy Jackson. I'm the son of Poseidon. And I'm sick of fate. My life seems to be a series of predetermined events designed to kill me. I was searching Olympus because Annabeth found something odd while architect-ing. Something hidden. I didn't want her to go, it could be dangerous. So I did it instead. Behind her back. NOT wise.

Percy was trekking across the marble maze of Olympus. He knew he was in some sort of temple. 'Maybe Annabeth was just loopy from lack of sleep. I don't think there's anything here...' He got this feeling, like there was something in his peripheral vision. Percy recognized it as the presence of water, faint, but present. He gravitated to it, reflexively reaching for Riptide. A wall stood between him and the water. Percy gave it a shove. Dust sprinkled down, spotting his raven hair. He stepped back and observed the outline of a door, now apparent by the depressed area of the wall.

Sliding the massive slab of marble aside, he strolled through the extensive corridor ahead. Shadows danced over random sections of the wall. The floors were blue shag carpet, reminding Percy of an asylum, a poor choice not even Zeus could make. The walls were the same white marble when they were not shrouded in darkness.

Percy uncapped Riptide, before reminiscing on the blade. He hadn't used it in real danger since the Titan War almost two years ago. Yet Annabeth was still working on Olympus. He frowned, remembering the war. History had repeated itself in its usual, treacherous fashion.

Percy marched on, until the corridor was lit up with what looked like sunlight streaming through water. Percy looked up and only found paneled lighting, like in a school. He shuddered at the thought. A sign swung from the ceiling, embossed bronze reading "Zeus". The next ridiculously obvious thing was the amount of glass tubes, each running vertical, filled with a bubbly liquid. Percy double-taked when he saw the people contained inside. Under Zeus, he saw a man that looked as if he was carved from stone. Percy tried not to notice his distinct lack of clothes, instead focusing on the fact that he had just a helmet and a pale, wickedly sharp sword. A small plaque rested on the tube, announcing the identity of its inhabitant. Perseus, his namesake. Percy's eyes widened and he whipped around to the tube behind him. A woman that can rival Aphrodite but had nothing on Annabeth. Helen of Troy. He glanced at other names and his head started to spin. Minos? Franklin Roosevelt? He shook his head and found another sign after those first several tubes. It read "Poseidon". A hulking man was crammed in one tube. Percy recognized him from dreams of the labyrinth. Theseus. Directly across, Winston Churchill bobbed in the liquid, clad in a business suit. Percy tried not to think about what that place was. Important demigods? He continues down the corridor, historical demigods on both sides.

Only two were under Apollo. Funny, considering the massive amount of fruit from his loins. William Shakespeare was one. The other was what caught Percy's eye. Phatheon Sol was decked out in dark red armor and sunglasses, a golden bow and quiver slung in an X across his torso. He was a questionable conglomerate of contemporary fashion and ancient armor. Percy was about to push on, but saw the next sign. Artemis. The boy inside reminded Percy more of a son of Poseidon like himself, but with copper colored hair. He had silver armor, a grey quiver, and a shining wooden bow slung over his back and a long Hunters-of-Artemis Silver jacket over it all, trailing him like a trench coat. The plaque reads "Orion". Percy blinked with some odd emotion. He knew the story of the mythological Orion, but it didn't make sense. He shook off the fact that he may have seen proof of Artemis' broken vow and walks on.

He blinded himself to the men and women imprisoned here. He blocked out the stray and nefarious thoughts as to why they were there. Percy was terrified, but he steeled his grip on his sword and trekked on, drawn by... something. He thought, it won't get worse. The ground changed into bronze tiles, labeled by a mosaic. The word "TITANS" glittered maliciously up at him. It quickly got worse.

The first set of children belonged to none other than Kronos. Percy's nose scrunched up when he read the name. The older boy on his left looked like Kronos. Well, what Percy imagined Kronos liked like in the ancient days. He stood tall and proud, his shoulders square. He was clothed in a brown leather jacket and jeans, modern clothing. His face was twisted into a permanent scowl, the expression that was once engraved into Luke Castellan's face, and a golden scythe glimmered in his hand. His plaque read Kinesus. Percy briefly wondered why all these demigods were kept with their weapons. 'Because Zeus is a fan of theatrics.' He found his answer.

The girl on the right was meeker than Kinesus. She was dressed similarly, a modern demigod, and her plaque read "Kara". She had dark brown hair, same as her brother. Her face was rosy and lively, in contrast to Kinesus' face. She looked innocent. Percy couldn't help but feel like she should be free. Then he thought of all the magics that could deceive him and continued on.

The poor… semititans? Percy liked that. The semititans were isolated in their tubes on either side of Percy for what he thought was a mile. He didn't know why he was still walking. Then the room changed into a circular chamber with a domed ceiling.

Scenes of Creation adorned the walls, forests growing or suffering atrophy at the wave of a hand, the oceans waving by the will of Pontus, skies bent by Ouranos. The floor was comprised of brown cobblestones. Signs hung over each chamber, all with a different primordial god. Then it struck Percy. Children of the Primordials. These chambers didn't contain the liquid. It was more like time was frozen around them, he thought. Pontus' son was comprised entirely of water. He was taken in combat, his form swirled and twisted, a fierce power glowing from sheer emerald eyes, just vibrant spots. Nyx' chamber was just an inky black, causing Percy to shudder. Gaea's daughter was taken with debris swirling around her, hair whipping like she was in a hurricane. She was fighting with a vengeance, it looked like. Percy noticed a man that looked as regal as Zeus. He wore a light blue robe, accented white to match his stark, windswept hair. His eyes were a fluorescent electric blue, the irises brimming with cyan light and shocking power. His face was austere and appeared to be carved from granite. Deep blue armor peeked from the gap in the snug robes. A wooden staff was his only weapon, which he had planted by his feet and angled outward. It reminded Percy of that old painting of Washington crossing the Delaware River, a general leading his men into battle.

Suddenly, a voice like artillery kicked through his skull, "PERSEUS JACKSON!" The glass chambers shattered and lightning leapt from the ground and into Percy, causing him to drop Riptide and howl in pain. He collapsed. The first thing he saw was the frowning face of the son of Ouranos. His vision blackened when he reached for his sword. The daughter of Gaea had a bare foot planted on the blade. Percy gritted his teeth and rolled backwards to his feet. He stumbled for a moment, his vision filled with spots. The roar was still present in his ears, the voice still echoing through his skull. He raised his fists. The son of Ouranos laughed, a deep, mocking rumble.

"We are not meant to fight yet, boy, but Fate will pit us against one another soon."

Percy was subtly pulling water toward him from down the hall, where cries of agony and wrath sounded. Elemental beings, semititans, and demigods were scrambling down the corridor. Blood was beginning to splatter the walls, the violent taste of ancient demigods and semititans satiated. The son of Ouranos spread his arms in a friendly, harmless gesture. Percy felt it was meant to be condescending.

"My name is Acastus, and this is my sister, Terra. I do not wish you harm… yet."

"That's what they all say." Water leapt to his fists and he lunged at Acastus. Percy stumbled after his attack was easily sidestepped. A lightning bolt formed in Acastus' hand. His bright, bold eyes fixed on Percy, he spoke to Terra. "Send him... To Tartarus."

Percy prayed to all the gods. None of them answered when the stones beneath him cracked open, and unfathomable darkness drug him down.


	2. 1: Requiem

**A/N: So these beginning chapters are short enough to agitate me, but they're essential. Primarily because this is OC-galore, I'll have to introduce every... single... one. And since this was intended to be four parts, I constructed casts for each, all OC-heavy. I can't think of anything else to say, other than THIS... This is where the story begins.**

Chapter 1 - Requiem

Rex hated living in Chicago. He could feel death and entropy radiate from alleys. He hated his gifts that allowed him to sense the feeling. Rex hated a lot of things.

Rex hated the hike to the homeless shelter, like he was making now. They always asked for his information and read his name out loud. He hated the greasy bangs that hung in his face, but he could never scrape the money together for a haircut without starving.

The sunset was not visible. Thick thunder clouds obscured it. Rex still had a mile to go. He huffed and kept walking. He could feel the old death of an innocent salesman in an alley. Shot in the head. A heart attack in an apartment. Another thing he hated: unjust death. He just adjusted his aviator sunglasses and tightened the straps on his backpack. Perhaps he could punish his apathy with discomfort. He kept the sunglasses with scratched lenses because the help desks always asked about his eyes. "Did you get them from your mom or dad?"

I wish I knew, he wanted to say. His mother's eyes were green. He'd kill to have inherited those instead.

Only half a mile to go. The rain began to fall in sheets. He pulled the hood of his dark coat up, he couldn't stop now. He was only half a mile away from a hot meal and a few hours of pleasant sleep. That is, until the insane bird attacked him. He knew hawks were common in Chicago. This wasn't a hawk. The initial attack was a dive. Its talons shredded his thick coat like tissue paper. He rolled forward on instinct, his pocket knife sliding into his hand. He found himself facing off with the vicious avian, himself crouched in a primal hunch. Its scarlet feathers ruffled and it spread its wings, showing off its impressive size. It was the size of an eagle but with a long, slender neck and a razor sharp beak that must have been meant for impaling. The people on the sidewalk backed away, muttering something about a psychopath butchering a pigeon.

The bird flapped its wings and advanced on him. Rex gripped the bird's neck to avoid the lethal beak. Rex drove his knife into… air? It passed harmlessly through the bird and Rex dropped it to the pavement. He quickly put his other hand on the bird's neck and twisted. However, he wasn't so quick that the creature couldn't plant its talons into his side. He winced and snapped the bird's neck.

He scooped his knife from the pavement and examined the massive bird, thrill of adrenaline and action pumping through his limbs. For an instant, he thought he smelled gasoline. Then the bird burst into flames. A pillar of fire erupted from the sidewalk and Rex staggered back.

The thing wasn't dead. Rex discovered this when it flew out of the flames and crashed into him. He fell on his back, scrambling away from the murderous bird. As the beak descended to his face, the entire creature exploded into golden dust, which settled on Rex' face and torso. He stood up and found himself face to face with a man in a suit and dark red tie. It looked expensive.

"New demigod, eh? You must be confused." The man in the business suit brushed monster dust off his shoulder. His hair was thick and curly on top of his head, and he had shimmering eyes that looked like a faint, misty rainbow over golden irises. "I'm Plutus."

"Plutus?"

"Plutus," he said, as if it were self explanatory.

"I see."

"What's the place, ah... Camp Half-Blood? Yeah, that's where demigods are supposed to go. Never had any myself, you know, time is money and kids take time and I like money," he laughed.

"Demigod?"

"Yeah... you've got that Underworld kinda feeling about you. Let's see..." He whips out a wallet so thin it must be empty. He pulls a few dozen one hundred dollar bills and hands it to Rex, proving that it was certainly not empty. "Everything costs money nowadays. Grand news for me, really. Let's heal those cuts, too. Oh, the address."

Blood that stuck to his shirt dried and fell off in flakes and his wounds closed. Plutus scribbled on a piece of paper pulled from thin air. He hands the note to Rex.

Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill, Farm Road 3.141, Long Island, New York 11954.

Rex couldn't tell if it was fake. Plutus smiled, "Just remember this, kid. You owe the gods." And Plutus vanished into a golden shine.

Rex lied on the pavement for some time, the rain pounding upon him. It suddenly struck him that Plutus was dry as a bone. Rex pushed himself to his feet, the cash and address safe in his pocket. He shrugged off the coat. It was summer anyway. He just wanted to keep it until he needed it, but now it wasn't functional. He brought it with him to the homeless shelter. Perhaps someone could make use of it for themselves.

He finally reached his destination. Cots are filled. The meal has been served. He gave the woman his information and she peered at him over librarian glasses. "Requiem Haze?"

"Yes ma'am."

He found a cot and lay down. Sleepless. He learned what fortunate people meant when they said they had cash burning a hole in their pockets. He lay there until he couldn't stand it. It was 3 am when he grabbed his backpack and snuck out to find a flight to New York.

 **A/N: So short it causes me physical pain. But alas, this is Requiem Haze, one of our protagonists.**


	3. 2: Aurum

Chapter 2 - Aurum

Aurum thought she might have liked camp if she wasn't the only child of Hades. They said there was another guy but he left after the war. Aurum didn't blame him. Children of Hades were avoided like the plague. Aurum thought wine was bad, but she would still talk to a son of Dionysus.

She couldn't really do anything at the camp. She couldn't fight. She couldn't summon skeletons to fight. She couldn't climb the rock wall, she couldn't run the fastest. No one wanted her on their Capture the Flag team. She couldn't even canoe. She liked the pegasi, but they didn't like the Underworld smell on her.

So she lay in her cabin. At least she had her own bed and stuff. Once the monsters started attacking, her parents hid her in the basement. She thought that's why they got eaten by hell hounds. She couldn't have protected them if they hadn't hid her, even though she couldn't fight. There was a small blonde boy that always tried to talk to her. He was her age, but unclaimed. He had a year to go before there was no choice. Percy would make the gods claim their kids, the campers said. He defeated Titans.

These were only said in whispers though. Aurum was okay with that. She lived in whispers.

She decided to go talk to Chiron. He was teaching her how to play chess. She liked to do things that tested her mind instead of her miniscule body. She pulled on a black shirt over her tank top, not intentionally shunning the bright orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt. It just happened. She trudged down to the Big House. The air was saturated with active demigods. The sons and daughters of Apollo were in an intense match of volleyball with the satyrs. Will Solace spiked the ball with a warrior's expression. Sunlight gleamed off his bare, slick-with-sweat arms as he shouted along with his siblings, all of them breaking into impromptu celebration. The satyrs moped in defeat.

She passed the arena, taking time to watch the demigods there. She didn't like to fight, she always embarrassed herself, but she loved to watch. Analyzing their movements was a habit of hers. When the right opponents fought, battles became a whirling dance of rage, finesse, and a warrior's passion. When camp first started for the summer, she was lucky enough to see Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase spar. They appeared almost perfectly matched. Aurum, however, could feel the power in Percy pent up, like a thin dam holding back a chaotic world's worth of churning ocean.

What a great power, she thought sarcastically, I have an instinct.

Today, however, they were teaching a class. Clarisse and Malcolm were the best teachers, although neither would admit it. The problem was that snarky swordsman James from the Aphrodite cabin. Aurum couldn't help but be jealous that he was so pretty AND good at fighting. Aurum would've settled for one. She knew that James sure as Hades didn't deserve to have either, but the world is so rarely fair to those that deserve it. Of course, she mused, everyone thinks they deserve something.

The campers were split up and given weapons to spar. She spotted the skinny blonde kid that talked to her sometimes. They had given him a knife because he was small. They had done the same with Aurum. Or at least James had. They were sorely mistaken, because she had seen the boy, Ace, they called him, use a sword in Capture the Flag. He was fierce, but he didn't tell anyone. The older Ares boys that he banged up didn't say anything either. Aurum giggled internally at his nickname. She found it ironic that people called him Ace like he was good at something, but no one knew that he actually was.

She waved when he looked her way. He lit up like a lightning bolt. She found that analogy more appropriate than a Christmas tree or something. He waved back with a grin and received a smack to the back of the head and a stern, "Pay attention". She didn't know it, but he was on Cloud 9 for the rest of class.

She reached the Big House and sat on the porch at a chess board, setting up the pieces quickly. The sunlight was fading and Chiron would come outside in just a few minutes. She heard that the son of Hades before her had a habit of appearing from nowhere. She liked to keep up that act. Being quiet was what she was good at. The sky gradually faded and the sun slipped behind Half-Blood Hill.

The sky was navy and the porch light flickered on. Aurum put on a smile for Chiron, but was instead greeted by Mr. D. He groaned when he sees her and Aurum's smile was quickly eradicated. "Go to your cabin before I feed you to harpies."

"I… I'm waiting for Chiron."

"Chiron is busy."

"Did something happen? He's never busy on Thursday nights."

Mr. D was unsure of how to respond. His eyebrows furrowed and he said, "Get lost, girl." She put her head down, stood up, and left.

The director looked pleased with himself and went back inside. Aurum doesn't defy her superiors. Not to their faces. She quickly slipped through the door after Mr. D. She darted into the room with the ping pong table. There were people in there, but she didn't have time to see who before she wedged herself between the wall and Pac-Man machine. No one would see her. The voices were conversing, she heard Chiron. "Olympus is in uproar, some gods are panicking, that's why a few of you received dreams of warning. Something happened last night."

"What happened to Percy and Annabeth?" Aurum recognized Clarisse's voice.

"They are both missing. I'm fairly sure that they are alive."

"Do we know who managed this?" Will Solace.

"Several people. I am not allowed to disclose it to you. However…"

"However?" One of the Stoll brothers.

"There is a new prophecy. Rachel? "

Rachel scared Aurum. The whole possession thing rocked even the daughter of Hades.

The voice of Delphi filled the room.

"The children of the Cthonic gods,  
Shall rise together against all odds.  
A lethal quest they will embark upon,  
To free the sole savior of gods  
at the powder keg of Gaea,  
Now forged by the fires of Tartarus.  
If not competed within ten days,  
the sea prince's soul be razed.  
With the aide of the Ghost King and his questing equal,  
Two Ghosts shall prevent the Fall.  
Six demigods shall carry the burden of Fate,  
but only three will live to the strait.  
The spawn of Death and princess of Hades will prevail and their  
Unlocked power can burn your world.  
Beware the Children of the Underworld."

Silence. Aurum hoped they couldn't hear her heavy breaths.

"That barely even rhymed," said Connor Stoll, meekly. Clarisse punched him.

"So we have a quest? Who are the children of the Cthonic gods?" asked Will.

"Cthonic gods are those that live in the Underworld. As to who will go, there are really only six choices. Rose, the daughter of Persephone-"

"There is no way she can handle a quest," said Clarisse.

"I fear she'll be the only choice. There are two children of Melinoe. Aaron and May, twins. A child of Hecate, perhaps. Lou? What say you?"

"I'm not the best magician, but I can't let my brothers and sisters do it. I'll go."

"Then there's... Aurum. A princess of Hades." Aurum held her breath in hopes that it would still her rapid heartbeats and maintain her stealth in the silent room.

Clarisse breaks it, "Spawn of Death?"

"Would be a child of Thanatos, I suspect," Chiron explains, "that we don't have."

"Maybe the gods will send one our way," said Will, "I say we send our people out after the bonfire tomorrow."

"We need to figure this out," said Clarisse, "These aren't exactly war veterans we're sending on a suicide mission."

"Is that what you would prefer?" Will asked in a blunt tone. Clarisse grunted.

"Lou will obviously be the quest leader, she's a Titan War veteran and the oldest," Clarisse said, "We can't do much else now. Our questers are Lou, Melinoe kids, Aurum, Rose, and this Thanatos kid that's supposed to show up. We can't do much more planning until the morning, Lou, go tell your questers to start packing."

"Alright," Chiron said. "Godspeed and good fortune." With that, the eldest council left. Aurum was near tears behind the Pac-Man machine. A quest. She couldn't do anything. And everybody would die.

_


	4. 3: Ghosts

**A/N: A little bit of real action, for once, and I'll admit that this story is very slow-starting, but it's all necessary. The roots of (almost)everything that's to come lie here.**

Chapter 3- Ghosts

Aaron was bored. Always. Bored. He was playing darts with himself, throwing two or three at a time. He had uncanny accuracy before developing his abilities. Now? It was hardly a challenge. Which is why he played upside-down, hanging from a chin-up bar on the ceiling. His sister was out with some guy he didn't approve of and he was back to a lonely night of playing darts.

Someone knocked on his door. Hope fluttered through him. Maybe it would be that cute Kitty girl from Hebe's cabin. Or the really sweet Iris girl. He was impartial. He dismounted from his position with a flip and started toward the door. He smoothed out his plain white shirt and combed his fingers through his unruly, but short, platinum blonde hair and opened the door with a smile. "Howdy!" It was neither of the girls he had interest in. It was Lou Ellen. He supposed that wasn't much of a loss, she was a funny and spontaneous girl from what he had heard and her wavy dark hair and lively green eyes didn't harm his opinion of the girl. "Aaron?"

"That's me! Lou, right?"

"Yeah," she smiled. Aaron noticed her attractive lips. "Um, so we kind of have this quest?"

"A quest? That's exciting. When do we leave?"

"Uh, tomorrow. You're not worried?"

"Lou, my life is boring. I could use some excitement," he grinned.

"Cool," she smiled, "so I'll be your quest leader. You should pack some nectar and ambrosia from the infirmary. We'll talk more about it with everyone tomorrow. Your sister will be going too, tell her when you can!"

"Alright!" She left him standing in the doorway. He then realized he was wearing boxers. And that people in the courtyard were staring. His eyes widened and he slammed the door. He threw himself down on his bed. "Gods of Olympus, WHY?"

Rex Haze was in the airport. He soon added long lines and signs labeled in English to the list of things he hates. Plutus had taken care of everything. Now he just had to board the plane. He had to leave his knife, they wouldn't let him take it on board. Perhaps it was because he looked homeless. Perhaps because he WAS homeless.

They finally called for first class, yes first class. He was going to put that cash to good use. As he was boarding, he caught a flash of light brown hair and pale green eyes. Unmistakable features. His mother. No, it couldn't have been. He trudged into the plane and down the aisle quickly, not wanting to burden those behind him. He found his seat and sat down.

He thought he'd been sitting there for an hour before the plane finally started. The seat next to him was empty, something for which he was grateful. The engine whined and Rex felt something he hadn't felt since his first month of the streets. Fear racked his massive frame as the plane began to roll. He gripped his armrests and his stomach churned. He felt the fear build up and he began to stand, before a calloused hand shoved him back down into his seat and sat down in the empty seat next to him.

It was a woman, a tough one. She had choppy blonde hair and a split lip, various cuts on her face bleeding. She had bandages wrapped tight around both hands. "Requiem Haze."

"Uh…"

"I'm a hysminae. A spirit of fight. You're going to need me, and you're one of my favorites, Rex!" Despite her multitude of injuries, she possessed an unusually cheery demeanor. "Long story short, there's two empousai on this puppy, and gods know you don't have enough experience to deal with those." He glanced around and whispered, "Do they see you?"

"You don't know about the Mist?"

"Mist?"

"Ugh. It obscures things that mortals shouldn't see. Gods, monsters, spirits, weapons, the whole nine yards. Anywho, these empousai won't approach if I'm here. To them you're just a sack of fresh meat. You're what? Son of... Ker? Olethros? No... You reek of pure death, not something sloppy like those... oh no way." She released a laugh from somewhere deep within her, an interesting bass tone.

She pulled a sword from a sheath at her waist. Rex didn't even notice her bloodstained battle armor. The weapon was sleek and black as ink. The grip was bound in simple brown leather with a simple crossguard. The sword, he thought, wasn't anything special. He seemed perfectly accepting of this sword given to him by a spirit. "You'll need that. Stygian iron. All the cool Underworld kids have it. Good luck, Rex!"

She spun out of her seat and into thin air. Rex scowled, the sword across his lap. He stuffed the sword into his backpack, but the hilt still protruded. He obscured it from sight with his leg.

An hour passed. Rex had ordered a meal and its remains rested on a table in front of him. The stewardess was extremely charming, Rex found. She came back around, and with her honey-sweet voice and curly chocolate hair asked if he needed anything else. His senses kicked into overdrive and he heard a wavering nuance in her voice that he would later learn was indicatory of charmspeak. He was already staring, so it didn't take much more for him to notice the bronze leg protruding from her tight skirt. And a donkey's hoof attached to the other leg. He was less than thrilled. He gripped his sword and tore it from his bag, swinging up in a way that should have killed the woman. She was the… empousai thing. The she-demon effortlessly dodged his clumsy attack and smiled her astonishing smile.

He almost wavered, but he remembered that he hated manipulation. The hysminae egged him on in his mind. For all the things Rex hated, he loved a damn good fight. Most of the passengers were in a deep sleep, no doubt the work of the demon so that she could harvest his organs or whatever she planned to do.

Rex had no clue what to do. He realized he must have been staring into the demon's eyes for roughly thirty seconds; and that she was attempting to use her magic to seduce him. She seemed focused so he stabbed her. Rex was lucky to catch her by surprise.

She exploded into dust and rained onto the passengers. He brushed some golden dust off his shoulder like Plutus had done and twirled his sword. The hysminae walked up behind him, beaming. "Nice technique! Like a cobra coiled to strike! Empousai are lightning quick, you were lucky to get a young, inexperienced one."

"What about the other one? You said there were two?"

"Oh yeah, it's about to get interesting. It's an elder empousa and she's figured out exactly what you are."

"A demigod, right? Like Hercules or Romulus?"

"Not even close, Rex. You're a whole different sort. Demigodhood is difficult. Monsters always on your tail, drawn into Olympian conflicts. It's a life, for sure. And a death sentence."

"Challenge accepted." He romped down the aisle to another section of the plane, the hysminae on his heels. Rex sighted the empousa, hunched over passengers. He spun to meet the hysminae's bruised eyes. "What's your name?"

"Aren't you polite?" She smirked and ruffled his greasy black hair. "The empousa is feeding." The hysminae slipped lethal celestial bronze knuckles onto her fists. Rex looked at her a second longer, then turned and creeped down the aisle. He tightened his grip on his sword when he saw flames flicker through the demon's hair.

The creature stood up, arching its back. An attempt at seduction. Rex found that the elder empousa's spell was much more formidable. The plane hit turbulence and rocked, sending Rex careening backwards. The empousa sprung into action. So did the hysminae. The spirit evaporated into a thick mist that looked like blood while the empousa lunged at Rex. Rex' companion reformed over the demigod and uppercutted the she-demon with a resounding crack, and sent her up into the plane's ceiling. As she fell back down, the hysminae unleashed a painful combo of jabs and hooks, until the empousa was leaking dust. Rex took his cue when the hysminae ducked down. He hurled himself at the demon, rolled over the hysminae's back and planted his sword in the empousa's chest.

He puckered his lips like he was blowing a kiss to the eroding empousa, who had an astounded look on her face. With that, he pulled out the sword and turned to the hysminae. "Nice job, newbie! I'm Clara." She curtsied, treating her battle skirt armor like a dress. "And your plane is about to land. Catch you later!"

She formed into mist and swirled into oblivion. He tiptoed back to his seat as a voice announced they'd be landing in roughly twenty minutes. Passengers began to wake and he stuffed his sword into his backpack. "How the HELL am I going to get this through an airport?"


	5. 4: Strawberries

Chapter 4 - Strawberries and Hearths

Rose loved it when the strawberry fields sang to her. She lay amongst the succulent fruits and tangled vines, whispering to snapdragons and watching them sway to the rhythm. The wind rustled through the flowers and birds whistled, the ancient song fused with the sweet smell of the ripe strawberries. The Demeter kids would soon come to work in the fields. Rose would have to leave.

Rose thought she might leave the pollen in her hair until morning. She thought it looked nice peppered in her glossy, dark brown curls. Camp used to be awful for her. She spent the summer cramped in the Hermes cabin. Her backwoods home was nice, but her parents sent her here every summer. When school was out, Rose spent more time at home. When she spent time at home, monsters attacked.

She skipped camp her senior year of high school. She made her own decisions now, she thought. That was her mistake. She studied biology and arts at Empire State university, and fell in love with New York. Until that Titan War nestled in her city.

She quickly discovered that she was a fighter.

Now she made her home at camp in the summers and hopefully for summers to come while she was off school. The Hestia cabin made her feel at home. Like the lazy days lying in beds of strawberries. Her thoughts fluttered to the exciting courses she signed up for when school starts. She quickly casted them away and stretched her arms, lips quirking upwards in a blissful smile. Rose attempted to open her eyes, but globules of pollen caused her long eyelashes to stick together for an instant before her eyelids gently pulled themselves apart.

With a deep sigh, she pushed herself to her feet. Now she could see the glistening ocean past the vibrant fields. She should have taken a picture. She hiked back to the Hestia cabin.  
She caught several not-so-furtive glances at her. Her beauty was apparent, but no one could see her intellect. That bothered her. Rose was also known to be a little ditzy and clumsy. It bothered her that she couldn't deny that. The breeze picked up, promising a cool summer evening. She inhaled, filling her lungs with smoke while she passed the forges. She heard one of the Hephaestus boys whistle and she rolled her eyes.  
The forges were brimming with heat and activity, as per usual the evening before Capture the Flag. She gave a wide berth to the Arena. James always assumed that because he was a son of Aphrodite, he was entitled to conversation and an evening with Rose. She adamantly disagreed.

She finally reached the cabins, and slipped into the quaint, wooden structure that was Hestia's cabin. Rose wasn't unclaimed, she was far too old. Her mother just didn't have a cabin. She didn't mind. While the Hestia cabin was an oddball conglomerate of demigods, she felt that they were just as close as siblings. She peeled off her stiff-from-sweat shirt and her grass and strawberry juice stained jeans. She crawled into her bed in her white tank top, thankful for the empty cabin. Rose wrapped her light sheet around her, savoring the feel of the cool fabric on her bare legs and collar. A day in the sun does things like that to a person. It'd been a full day, arena fighting, archery, lake activities, lying in the fields. Yeah, productive day.

Her cabin mates filtered in one by one as the sunlight retracted. Ace stumbled in the door, colored purple and black and crimson with blood. Arena fighting could be a bitch, Rose thought. "Come here, Ace." She pulled her sheet tight around her legs as he sat down. "Polly, I need some gauze." The girl tossed a roll of gauze from a drawer to Rose. Rose contemplated the kind of place she lived in that gauze was kept handy in the nightstand.

"How'd all this happen?" She inquired, unraveling the gauze.

"They gave me a knife and pitted me against an Ares boy."

"You need to ask for a sword, and quit taking this." She pulled a bandage tight around his arm. "Kay?"

"I don't want to cause any trouble. It was mostly my fault, I got distracted at the beginning of practice and it kind of went downhill."

"Ooh. Was it a girl?" Rose teased.

Ace's fierce blush spoke for him.

"Oh my gods, it was a girl!"

Ace mumbled something about the bandages.

"I won't be nosy... but you should tell me her name."

Ace mumbled. The hearth crackled in the silence. "Speak up, don't be shy Ace."

"Aurum…"

"She's cute. Have you talked to her?"

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Polly answered, and told Rose that it was for her. Rose pulled the sheet around her, not minding her state of dress and shuffled to the doorframe. She recognized the girl, Lou Ellen, counselor for Cabin 20. "Hi, I'm Lou. I know this is kind of short notice, but you're supposed to be a part of our quest."

Rose blinked. "A.. A quest?"

"Yep. We're going to gather the questers at dawn tomorrow. Come to the Big House and we'll fill you in."

Rose searched for her voice. It was trapped somewhere behind her numbed tongue in the dryness of her panicking throat. "Okay." She was glad that her word was steady. Lou just smiled and walked away to the Melinoe cabin.

A moment passed before Rose was able to haul herself and her sheet to bed. She didn't hear Ace ask if she was alright. She just collapsed in her bed and bundled herself in sheets. The lights were extinguished. The hearth was reduced to a whispering glow. Rose did not sleep. She lay in bed until dawn, in wide eyed wakefulness.

New York was a bustling city. Rex found that this was true, even at dawn. He had plenty of spare cash, thanks to some delusional businessman. He questioned why he was going to the address if he believed that Plutus was crazy. He didn't. Rex hated to kid himself. For some crazy reason, this cynical realist left everything he had scraped together from ashes, a reputation, a lifestyle... To go to magic camp.

Nevertheless, Rex was a settler by nature, though he didn't know it. Rex bought his latest meal at a convenience store, a box of strawberries. Oddly, he'd never had strawberries. He hated his first bite. Then he decided that beggars can't be choosers and ate another.

New York City differed greatly from Chicago. Whereas Chicago was a city forged by a violent history into alleys, brick, darkness, and cynicism, New York was a citadel of glass and steel. He wanted to think that the people were different. They weren't. Rex decided long ago that people had a tendency to be homogenous. He loved a fight. Fighting normality was all the same to him.

He wasn't sure how much a taxi was. He'd never had the cash to use one, but he hailed one and asked him to take him to the address. The driver, a lanky man with a German accent, laughed. But he took him anyway.

This better be worth it, Rex thought.


	6. 5: Aphotic

Chapter 5 - Aphotic

The first thing Percy noticed was the heat. Not hot August heat. Open the oven after an hour and 400 degree wind blasted into his face kind of heat. But it was everywhere. The second thing he realized was he didn't have Riptide. He frantically searched both pockets of his khaki shorts. They were void of weaponry, but he did find a few candy wrappers and a mashed ambrosia square. His body was drenched in sweat and his muscles ached. He felt the familiar sensation of cooked tissue from electricity. It would heal with some time and water.

Percy then remembered what happened.

Acastus had hurled him from Olympus... he faintly remembered the old myth, Tartarus being as far from the earth as the heavens. If one were to drop an anvil from Olympus to earth, it would fall for nine days. Same from the earth to Tartarus. He didn't want to think about the jokes Annabeth would make about comparing himself to an anvil.

Annabeth… What happened to his Wise Girl? No. He couldn't afford this, not in Tartarus. Annabeth was waiting for him. All he had to do was leave and go back to camp.

Percy fell for two and a half weeks, apparently. He decided that couldn't be right. Time could be weird with the Olympians.

If the air was hot, the coarse sands beneath him equaled burning coals. He struggled to his feet, grains of sand filtering into his sneakers. He grunted and finally got to his feet. The muscles in his legs throbbed with blood circulating. He inhaled deeply and even the oxygen felt hostile, scratching his lungs. Percy was already sweating buckets.

He decided that Tartarus was nothing special. Just that hot, coarse sand for miles, topped with ink black fog at the horizon. There was a massive plateau about halfway between him and the horizon. At least 10 miles, maybe. He decided to hike. On his first step, the sands shook and shifted and some sort of growl rumbled beneath him. Percy kicked it into battle mode.

Percy's feet were flying. He remembered the days when he couldn't outrun a tree, but right now his blood was sheer adrenaline. When he finally dared to turn around, he nearly fainted.

It was a drakon. Percy had only seen one before, and he'd killed more monsters than Hercules. He hadn't even killed the thing, Clarisse had. This... exact one... he could see its shattered eye, dimmed. The other was shining and shedding its paralyzing power. The scales were lime green and obnoxious, and jagged, crimson spikes dotted its spine.  
He recalled the primary conflict with this drakon, the oldest, the Lydian Drakon.

It could only be killed by a child of Ares.

This fact alone beamed terror through his chest. It slithered closer, and Percy met the monster's eye. He tried to bolt, his only option, but it felt like his legs were braced with steel rods planted deep in the ground. He tried to formulate one of his paper thin plans. The drakon slid up to him, arching up and hissing. Its maw slowly widened and revealed the deathly cavern of its mouth. Drops of acid sprung out and landed on Percy, one sizzling away at his shirt and the other bubbling on his face. The River Styx did its job well, but he knew this was no war. Armor didn't protect the vulnerable small of his back now. Not war, no. Survival.

The drakon was within arm's reach now. It sucked wind in between its teeth, ruffling Percy's hair and tugging at his back. Then, a mighty roar ripped from its throat, a chilling cry that swept Percy's sweat-saturated hair from his forehead. With that, Percy's terror was forged into determination. There was battle mode. Then there was Curse of Achilles mode. This was the latter.

Percy stared back, dead in its one eye. His nose scrunched when the drakon growled in challenge. Percy growled back. The drakon's rumbling faded in confusion, so Percy punched it in the teeth. It reeled back, coiling up. Percy sprinted to it, high on Styx power. It tried to strike and Percy whirled around its teeth and kicked it in the eye, hard. The drakon howled at the sky, defeated, and Percy grinned. The darkness of Tartarus was already infecting him. He inhaled the air with renewed vigor, his hand soaked in drakon blood. He left the snake thrashing in the desert and stormed to the plateau.

May didn't have a fondness for waking up in strange places, let alone in various states of undress. That didn't keep it from happening. Dawn cracked the sky with pale colors.

She sighed and soaked in her environment. She was at Fireworks Beach. Waves gently rubbed away the shore. The morning was silent and the waves sounded abmormally loud. She crawled to her hands and knees and grasped her soaked and sandy, wrinkled Camp Half-Blood t-shirt. She wrung out her dirty blonde hair and pulled the shirt over her head. May shivered at the kiss of chilled air on her naked skin.

Invisibility could carry her to the cabins. She figured that even though she was tired she could make it that far. Then she'd just skip some activities and take a long, refreshing nap and be ready for Capture the Flag.

Clay had left her there. She thought he was a nice guy and she ended up at Fireworks Beach with her clothes scattered across the sand or nowhere to be seen. Her brother Aaron told her that it was becoming a pattern with her. What did he know? He was just some farm boy who didn't know anything about love.

She summoned her abilities, feeling the steady churn in her shoulders and back that let her know her powers were active. It felt so foreign at first, but it quickly became second nature. Camp was near empty at dawn, she thought, it was lucky.

Only a few satyrs milled about and early risers were eating in the mess hall. She just had to creep between the forest and the mess to get to her cabin. The satyrs glanced around whenever she passed. They must have smelled her, she thought. Even if they didn't pick up her demigod scent she smelled of wet sand and hair and salty water, very out of place between the forest and mess hall.

She came to the wide oval of cabins, and set her sights on Cabin 22, the Melinoe cabin. If she phased through the door maybe Aaron wouldn't hear her and proceed to harass her about being out with yet another guy. She huffed and was preparing her body to pass through the wall. The door swung open when she was just three paces from it.

Aaron walked out in black and silver basketball shorts and a matching gray hoodie. His bow was slung over his shoulder and the vibrant orange Camp Half-Blood shirt peaked out from the neck and waist of the hoodie. He stopped directly in front of her, and she prayed her invisibility would hold. She held her breath and thought, what does she care? He can't boss her around or make decisions for her, but she still held her breath.

He stopped right next to her, about to pass. "May. You can't hide from me." She shuddered at his words. There was some sort of gruff power in his voice that she couldn't comprehend. Shedding her invisible disguise, May hung her head in… not shame, no. She didn't want to look into his dark eyes and say she's done it again.

He peered into her eyes. She briefly wondered if her pale gray eyes had the same effect. She doubted it. They were dull and depthless, but Aaron's eyes were capable of conveying several feelings. Knowing, empathy, kindness. She was a little jealous.

For almost ten seconds, she counted, the silence lasted. The dawn air was thick and broken by Aaron's voice. "Get your stuff. We have a quest."

And he walked on.

A quest? She wasn't sure what to think. In times past she'd heard quests were dangerous to everybody and people died. Killed by monsters. On the other hand, they were adventures, something that might finally satiate her lust for thrill.

Chills racked her when she thought, what if that's what she's doing? Attempting to satiate her taste for thrill with all these guys. She quickly dismissed it. She was searching for love. She just wasn't talented at it.


	7. 6: Mornings From Hell

Chapter 6 - Mornings from Hell

Rose looked like Hades. She stood in her cabin's bathroom, clad in her Camp Half-Blood shirt and khaki shorts. Her eyes were bloodshot and sore from weeping through the night. Thick, purple-grey vats sunk under her normally vibrant cyan eyes, which had been drained of color and were now closer to a weak periwinkle. It was the sort of change her mother made through the seasons. Patroness of life and beauty to the queen of death and Hell.  
Her hair had lost its majesty and was crumpled and wet. She considered just tying it up, get it out of the way. She figured there was little point. No, she thought, I have things to come back to, a life, an education, friends at school. She'd survive and she'd do it well, she resolved. She'd feel better by lunchtime.

Aaron was quite unhappy. He stormed to the Big House, leaving May to scrape together her things. He briefly considered going back to help his sister pack, but his rage quelled any chance at altruism.  
The Big House porch creaked beneath his sneakers, and he wiped the wet grass on a mat before entering. Aaron liked the Big House, it felt homey. It reminded him of his farmhouse back in Virginia. The meeting room was empty. Of course, it was 5am, but Aaron was the epitome of early rising. He pulled up a folding chair and sat at the ping pong table and waited patiently.  
Roughly twenty minutes later, Rose trudged in, burdened by fear and an aura of entropy and decay. Aaron briefly reflected on the sheer power of minor gods that are overlooked by Olympians. Rose seemed to be a case like that. When she was around, plants thrived and people came to life, the best in them apparent. Now, even the magical leopard head looked depressed. Plants wilted and the air lost sweet scents; Aaron could feel the radiation tugging at his soul, trying to churn the rage, apathy, lust, and jealousy that set deep in his soul.  
She wasn't even trying.  
"Hey, Rose, right?"  
That quality in his voice poked through Rose's veil of isolation and depression. She tried for a smile but her lips curved weakly. "Yeah. You're the Melinoe boy, aren't you?"  
He grinned despite himself, "Yep, I'm Aaron. It's nice to finally meet the strawberry girl," he winked with his usual demeanor.  
Rose just assumed he'd be one of _those_. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. Maybe it was just the morning, she wasn't a rude person and she'd probably feel bad about it later. She'd blame it on the early morning.  
Aaron noticed her prolonged silence and was relieved when Lou Ellen entered and sat down, followed by May dressed in a sheer, black, long sleeve shirt with a thin hood attached and short black shorts. Her Camp Half-Blood shirt was visible through her clothes and her black wooden bow was slung over her shoulder. Lou had odd clothing to say the least. Her jeans had runes written in Sharpie marker over the hems on the side, and her deep blue shirt had long, loose sleeves, but fit like a kimono, minus the lower half. Her wavy, voluminous hair was tied back, bangs framing one side of her face and her glimmering eyes almost glowed.  
"This is almost everyone, good. I'm Lou, daughter of Hecate. Chiron will be here in a minute. Does, ah, anyone know Aurum? I couldn't find her."  
Silence. Great, May thought, a quest full of reserved followers. This would end wonderfully.  
Aaron broke the silence. He was good at that. "She's the Hades girl, right? Why do we get a quest with the creepy crawly gods?"  
"Chiron will get here soon with Rachel and the prophecy." They sat in silence for too long. Lou tried to initiate conversation. "So where are you guys from?"  
Aaron replied first, "I'm from a farm in Virginia. Real quiet place with kind people."  
Nobody else interjected. "I'm done, guys," Aaron joked, "Y'all can go now."  
"I'm from Virginia, too," Rose said, her voice meek. "A small city in the mountains with orchards."  
Lou smiled because her questers are actually talking. May spoke up, "I lived in Oregon. It was pretty much ideal for a daughter of Melinoe, lots of thick mist and rain and trees. It felt haunted."  
"But that's good for us," Aaron elaborated lightheartedly. Chiron wheeled in, followed by Rachel. He halted at the table and was about to speak before he wheeled back around and to the Pac-Man machine. He peered in the slim crevice between the massive machine and the wall, finding Aurum in a silent slumber.  
He smiles for a moment before requesting Aaron's assistance. Aaron quickly stood and passed through the table to get there. Phasing was as much second nature as breathing to him. He gently pulled Aurum's waking form from her hiding spot and set her in a chair. Rose smiled at the act of gentleness from what she thought was just another snarky douchebag.  
Chiron brought the order, "Now that we're all here and awake, we should discuss this quest. Rachel, the prophecy."  
Rachel looked up from the dots she was pecking on her jeans with Crayola markers. "Oh yeah, sorry it doesn't rhyme guys. It starts out like,  
The Children of the Cthonic gods shall rise together against all odds. That's you guys, kids from gods that live in the Underworld. So uh…  
A lethal quest they will embark upon,  
To free the sole savior of gods at the powder keg of Gaea,  
Now forged by the fires of Tartarus.  
If not competed within ten days,  
the sea prince's soul be razed.  
I'm pretty sure that by sea prince, it means Percy. I'm afraid that he's... he's trapped in Tartarus. Any ideas on the powder keg of Gaea?"  
Rose thought for a moment, using get academic mind. "A fault line, perhaps? Volcanoes?"  
Aaron's eyes sparked, "What's the biggest volcano in America?"  
"Mount Saint Helens? I thought that was the only volcano in America?"  
"Yellowstone National Park has a mega volcano underneath it," Aaron pointed out, excitement apparent. "There's an exit from Tartarus in myth, it was in Ancient Greece but everything moved, right?"  
Aurum spoke next, "Hawaii sits on a geological hotspot. That's literally a pipeline from Hell to the surface."  
"We need an exact place," Rachel said, "This is Percy's SOUL we're talking about here."  
"Process of elimination," said Lou, "Yellowstone is on the way. We get there fast, and if it's not the right place we move to Hawaii as quick as we can."  
"Sounds like a plan," Aaron said conclusively.  
"That's not all," Rachel interjected,  
"With the aide of the Ghost King and his questing equal,  
Two Ghosts shall prevent the Fall.  
Six demigods shall carry the burden of Fate, but only three will live to decide."  
"I can say with little doubt that the Ghost King is Nico DiAngelo."  
Only Lou heard him, having been prepared for these words. The others were shocked to silence. "That's hardly fair. What if we don't want to die?" Aaron tried to lighten the mood. He didn't like these silences saturated with fear. "Two Ghosts obviously means me and May, and Nico was the son of Hades, right? So Aurum would be his equal."  
Aurum snapped out of her shock, "I don't have his powers. I can't be his equal."  
"Let's finish the prophecy, shall we?" Lou suggested.  
Rachel eagerly moved from the morbid lines, "The spawn of Death and princess of Hades will prevail and their  
Unlocked power can burn your world.  
Beware the Children of the Underworld."  
"Let's get more cryptic and dark, why not?" May broke the silence that time. Her eyes flitted to Aaron, hoping for a glimmer of approval. Nothing. She was glad that she was sitting as far as possible from him.  
"You said there were six," Rose said, clinging to logic and methodical thinking for support, "We only have five."  
"We patiently await the sixth," Chiron explained. "However, you five will report to Clarisse at the Arena and then Grover back here in the Big House, since they are the only ones here that have been on a quest. Understood?"  
They all slowly nod. "Excellent. Aurum, if you would stay behind for a moment."  
The group drifted out of the room and onto the Arena. Aurum stayed in her seat.  
Chiron rolled over to her and Rachel left the room. He searched his tweed jacket pockets. His hand emerged and opened, and in it rested a silver ring with the design of a skull etched into it. A slim grey chain looped through it, making the functionality that of a necklace. "This belonged to your brother, Nico. I want you to take this to him, so that he will know who you are. I believe he'll have something for you in return."  
"What sort of something?" Aurum inquired, dexterously sliding the ring from his hand and over her long dark hair to her slender neck.  
"I do believe that Mr. DiAngelo will surprise us both. He had a tendency to defy expectations like Percy defied certain death. I expect both of these characteristics to manifest themselves in you and your fellow questers. We may not have Stygian iron, but I don't doubt Clarisse can find something for you. Head to the Arena and send Rose back here. May fortune shine on you, Aurum."  
She smiled. "You too, Chiron. Keep a chessboard set for me."  
She got up silently and excited the room. Chiron watched after her with sad eyes burdened by a millenia of lost pupils. Lost children.

Rose didn't have to hesitate to let the entropy out. She was sparring with Clarisse at the moment. They had given her a bronze sword and breastplate. It was far too tight for her body, but she fought fiercely nonetheless. Clarisse was surprised at Flower Girl's ferocity and power. She had some sort of aura that tugged at Clarisse, infecting her muscles and bones. They begged her to give up and embrace the blade of Rose's sword.  
But Clarisse was a warrior. She quickly disarmed the daughter of Persephone before that power could grab hold, but Clarisse was impressed. She called the group together and they stood in a semicircle before her. Rose, Aaron, May, and Lou. Rose was a natural fighter despite her attractive, but hindering build. Aaron had a gift for dodging attacks and assaulting with ferocious speed. Neither him nor May could phase through celestial bronze, she learned. May was much tougher than she looked. She bore a shock from Maimer that could've knocked out a pegasus. Lou was clever. Her magic wards helped her tremendously and she carried her enchanted Sharpie markers for drawing runes.  
"Are you all familiar with King of the Hill?"  
Lou smirked knowingly and tilted her head so that her bangs would fall to the side of her face once again. "No? In a nutshell, so that you kids can understand it, we all fight each other. If you get pushed out of the arena, you're out. If you get tagged, you're out."  
Lou was worried for the others' safety. Clarisse played this game with the likes of Percy, Annabeth, Thalia, and Nico. Legends. May drew her dagger from her hip and Rose gripped her sword tight. Clarisse grinned. "You guys ready?"  
Aaron interjected, "Wait, Ijusthavethisbow-"  
"Go!"  
They broke into flurries of movement, a whirlwind clinging to the center of the arena. Aaron had lunged into the center to avoid Lou's blast of concealing smoke. He was now the pinnacle of the battle. He was a contortion of impossible movements, dodging swipes from both Rose and Clarisse who were fighting around Aaron's body. May was ducking and parrying stray swipes. Once Aaron was no longer dodging on reflex, he used his position to his advantage. He was currently on his hands, so he tucked his legs to his chest and spun with his bow tight in his fist. He'd feel bad about taking Rose out, so he tucked his bow in as she came in range, and then attempted to swipe Clarisse's feet from under her. The Ares girl had anticipated this and stomped on his bow as it passed. This interrupted his momentum and left him sprawled on the ground. The butt of Maimer was descending upon him, and he rolled out of the way with the sharp clack of the weapon's impact ringing in his ears.  
He took this opportunity to flip to his feet. He then bent backwards to dodge a swipe from Maimer and kicked his bow to his grasp. Aaron was aware he could do little with his bow, so he settled for his hands. He threw a quick jab at Clarisse, only for her to dodge by ducking, and then charge him. She collided into his ribs and knocked the wind from his lungs. Clarisse held fast to him, rapidly approaching the edge. She tossed him out into the wet grass and he rolled down the bank.  
She turned her wrath to the other three girls, only for a roar of thunder to shove her to the grass with blunt concussive force. Lou smirked, her stunning eyes brimming with power and her ponytail and bangs ruffling in the wind she's stirred up. Aaron had gotten to hands and knees, but seeing Lou like a goddess made him want to lie back down. The Mist was pouring from her sleeves and swirled into a thick, iridescent shield. May and Rose registered this threat and attacked in tandem. This was futile, for Lou's misty shield had expanded to block both attacks. The defense evaporated, causing the two attacking girls to stumble forward. Lou jumped back, her hair and kimono ruffling.  
She halted her inertia and lightning crackled within the Mist from her sleeves. Lou couldn't help but chuckle. The runes on the hem of her jeans and her sleeves lit up in various colors. Wind swirled in the arena and a high pitched whine crescendoed, followed by a concussive explosion, driving Rose and May apart. Lou considered this a victory for her when Aurum made her appearance.  
May helped Aaron to his feet and Aurum set her sights on Rose. "Chiron wants to talk to you."  
"Alright. Thanks, Aurum." She gives her sword to the smaller girl and sets off to the Big House.

The tall grass and sands of Long Island warped by Rex' window. The driver had asked him if he played baseball when he saw Rex' sword. He recalled the Mist that Clara mentioned. It was still early morning, maybe 6am. The man said it was only a few more miles to his destination. Rex relaxed at that. He didn't want any more arsonist birds or evil stewardesses.  
Then he recalled what it meant to be a demigod. The beach disappeared from view and replaced itself with tall grass and a wooden fence. For an instant, he glimpsed the same ghost, his mother in the field.  
"Stop the car." The taxi driver skidded to a halt and Rex got out. He was going to figure out what was going on. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, "There's something in the field. I'll be right back." Feelings of ghosts weren't new to Rex. Oftentimes, they were only fleeting impressions of a soul. This image of his mother, though, was vivid and appeared corporeal. It didn't quite rock him like it would a more emotional person. He didn't know her anyhow.  
He waded through the waist high grass, one hand firmly on the protruding hilt of his sword, birds shrieking. Clouds moved with fierce speed across the sky and birds flocked, thickening the atmosphere with shadows. After a minute of walking through the field, he halted and scanned the grass with determination.  
The birds were swarming now, shrieking louder. Their cries went ignored by Rex, but the taxi driver leaned forward to peer out the widow, face scrunched and mouth agape, inspecting with ignorant eyes the churning mass of birds. Rex smelled something dead. He thought that maybe a squirrel or rabbit had died. It unsettled him, something about the scent. Rex continued in search of closure to ease his curious mind.  
Bones picked clean of muscle and tissues. Human bones caked in dry, black blood. Rex gritted his teeth when he saw that they hid under the grass for dozens of yards. He slid his sword out of his backpack and held it ready. The birds were unbearable. Rex whirled around when he realized what had happened. The Stymphalian birds were a hurricane of darkness.

Metallic feathers shot from the swarm and punctured the roof of the taxi. Blood splattered the inside of the windows and Rex sprinted to the vehicle.  
Metal feathers rained behind him and pierced his backpack. One sunk into his right calf, but he ignored it and kept running. The flock began to descend. He jumped the wooden fence and slammed into the taxi's back door. He gripped the handle when the birds reached the ground. One sliced the top of his thumb and he jerked his hand away. They pecked at the back of his neck and he spun with a wild swipe. A line of monster dust trailed his sword. He hacked his way to the edge of the storm and burst through the membrane of birds. Rex dived and rolled over the hood of the taxi. The flock followed, under, around, and above the vehicle.  
He ripped the door open and shoved the dead driver over. The poor man looked similar to a red porcupine. Rex slid behind the wheel and slammed the door, but the birds were everywhere. Rex shifted into drive and floored it. The vehicle kicked up smoke and the back window shattered. Birds poured into the vehicle, tearing at Rex and piercing him with feathers. Rex shut his eyes and mouth tightly and drove straight. He wouldn't be able to see through the birds, anyway. His body elevated at the unfathomable speed his vehicle acheived. Hot blood dripped down his neck, sides, thighs, into his shoes. He felt a steep incline and all the birds burst into dust. Through the swirl of gold, Rex could make out a massive pine tree.  
Right before he wrapped the taxi around it. 


	8. 7: Equestrian Altruism

Chapter 7 - Equestrian Altruism

"It was used by the hero Hyakinthos," Chiron explained. He and Rose were sitting in the shade of the wraparound porch of the Big House, overlooking the strawberry fields. "You may know his story."

"He was a Greek hero, an apparently beautiful one, since he was pursued by both Apollo and Zephyrus, the West Wind. He was killed by a discus, thrown by Apollo, that veered off course due to the wind's jealousy."  
"The means of his death is of little concern. The point is that you and he have something in common. The both of you were capable of great feats, as he was an accomplished hero, yet known and remembered by beauty alone." He picked up a sword that was lying on his far side and handed it to Rose. It was celestial bronze and gleamed with beauty. Slightly longer and much more decorative than is average. Swirling patterns of laurels and flowers stretched across the pommel and hilt. They curled and twisted together to form the crossguard. Its name was engraved on the blade in ancient Greek.  
Rose was in awe of the breathtaking blade. "Its name," Chiron told her with a smile, "is Hyacinth. It represents lethal beauty, and was used by the son of Aphrodite, Aeneas, during the Trojan War."  
"It's amazing. Thank you, so much, Chiron." This blade was rich with history, power, and character, just like her. Most people would never look past the pretty visage. Just like her.  
"Also, something from your mother." Rose's mind reeled with those words. Her mother had sent her something? Chiron handed her a single white rose. "I've not a clue of its significance apart from your name. Persephone is one to give gifts of great meaning and thought. Perhaps you will unravel this enigma in time."  
"I… I can't express my thanks, Chiron. These mean everything to me."  
Chiron smiled his old, wise smile with sadness in his eyes. "The best of luck to you, Rosemary Parkour. May the Fates watch over you."  
She stood up, Hyacinth in her loose grip and she pushed the rose into her curls of hair. As she stepped into the sunlight, she turned to Chiron. "What is it like? Being so instrumental in the lives of heroes through the ages?"  
He kept his smile, but his eyes conveyed an aged, soft sadness. "Not nearly as glorious as you'd think. Please send one of your fellow questers to me."  
"Sure thing," she grinned and left for the Arena.

Aaron walked into the Big House, his white and grey sneakers now stained with wet grass. Chiron wasn't on the deck or in the Rec Room where they held their meeting. He checked the infirmary, poking his head inside. Nothing was in the warm, sunlit room but Will Solace, up early and bandaging his knuckles. Aaron caught that his fingers were mangled and he was chewing on some ambrosia.  
Will's head snapped up when he sensed a presence in the nearby. Aaron saw no reason to go invisible, so he just offered a friendly smile to Will, who looked like a deer in headlights. To Aaron, silence was the enemy. His goal was to fill that deathly quiet with laughter and joy, and so he asked, "What's with this ominous secrecy, Sunny Boy?"  
Will smirked when he got the wordplay, and just replied with a shrug and a, "nothing serious."  
"I think Chiron went into the basement, if you're looking for him. Mr. D is sleeping like the dead."  
Will was trying to distract from his injuries, but Aaron was perceptibly observant. He decided that if Will was being discreet then that should be respected. He gave thanks and continued down the wood paneled hallway.  
The basement of the Big House, to Aaron's knowledge, had remained untouched since the Titan War. He opened the door and descended the stairs into darkness. Chiron was standing in the center, in centaur form. Golden weapons and artifacts were littered across shelves lining the room. Torches illuminated the space, reflecting off the golden trinkets and casting malevolent shadows. Chiron turned to face him and said, "Do you know what these are, Aaron?"  
He inspected them closer, there were jars of Greek fire, spears, swords, bows, armor, Camp Half-Blood beads from camper's necklaces. "These are weapons and spoils of war."  
Chiron's shadowed face was streaked with sadness and scars of loss. "Few understand the true effects of war. Percy, for the most part, emerged unscathed. He was invulnerable and those he loved survived with miracles. The other campers… the less fortunate… they have coped with this stark reality in amoral or unhealthy fashions. The city itself suffered catastrophic destruction that is still being rebuilt. Unnoticed damages still cause skyscrapers to fall with little provocation. Olympus, the realm and city of gods, was leveled."  
Aaron was out of his element with the awkward theme of darkness and consequences. "Why... why are you showing me this?"  
Chiron clopped to a wall and dug through the shelf until he found a watch and a sleek, silver dagger. "Two Ghosts shall prevent the fall. I believe, without a doubt, that this quest will initiate a chain of events that will end in nothing short of war. You and your sister, together, will have a great capability. I am convinced that this line of the prophecy means that you and May will prevent the fall of these children into the savagery of true war. You and her alone can save them from the hatred, the loss, the bloodlust that threatens to consume them."  
Chiron gave Aaron both the watch and dagger. "These are mementos from wars past. That watch belonged to a son of Hades. You may be familiar with Adolf Hitler." Aaron dropped the watch like it was on fire. "Holding grudges and forging hatred is usually the flaw of Hades' children. Hitler's hatred ran much deeper than a grudge. You will uncover this as you possess the watch. Its sole purpose was to detect and count down to the culmination of a prophecy. It was recovered by an American spy, a son of Poseidon, as Hitler's dead body was ignited by his colleagues. The watch struck zero when the flames erupted. It then proceeded to tick down to the bombing in Hiroshima and Nagasaki."  
Aaron bent to retrieve it. "Why did you give this to me?"  
"How will you save this camp and all these children from something you've never known?"  
Aaron shivered at the revelation. "And the dagger?" Chiron's face darkened further.  
"It belonged to Paris of Troy."  
Aaron slowly realized the implication of this fact. "Well, I don't have a Helen, so-"  
Chiron's dead stare silenced him. He knew what Chiron was and where he came from, but that never showed through as the activities director of happy camp. This was the son of Kronos, forged by the destruction of the first Titanomachy with unrivaled wisdom and unmatchable compassion for his students, who were already damned by Fate. This was the Chiron he saw now. It terrified the son of Ghosts.  
"Take care of your sister, Aaron. Take care of yourself. I've little else to tell you. Good luck, Aaron Peralta." Aaron smirked.  
"Thank you, Chiron. I swear, I'll hold true to my duty. I swear it on the Styx." A bundle of spears fell over and clattered across the floor.  
Aaron turned and ascended the wooden steps, creaking with every step. Chiron watched after him with wide eyes, stunned at the oath that would reap Hades upon the boy.

Lots of things happened at Thalia's pine, but Lou thought that may have been the greatest entrance since Percy came stumbling over the hill, spoils of war in hand and dragging a satyr. Aurum was the fastest runner despite her height, and got to the scene first. She was already feeling for impressions of life from the man sprawled between the crumpled hood and the pine tree, lying on a bed of broken grass. He was full of Stymphalian feathers and blood was seeping across the bright yellow taxi. "He's alive," Aurum determined. "Get a healer. Jonah, Will, or some child of Apollo."  
Lou took off to the Big House to get Jonah from the guest room. The son of Amphitrite was shirtless in pajama pants and running one hand through his wet hair while another brushed his teeth. Lou felt little shame concerning his state of dress, despite his body being near ideal. He was tall and lean, and not an ounce of body fat was on the teen. When he saw Lou he quickly snatched a shirt and tugged it on. "What's up, Lou?"  
She didn't think he'd know her name. Then again, she'd heard he knew every camper by name despite having arrived just this year. "Someone is hurt. Really bad." Jonah dropped to the floor in a push up position and slipped one hand under the bed, still supporting himself. He slid a first aid kit out from under the bed and jumped back to his feet. They started down the hallway and ran into Will Solace as he exited the infirmary. "Prep for some surgery, Will. We've got a car crash and he's been torn apart by Stymphalian birds."  
"Sure thing, Lou." He spun back around and Lou and Jonah set for the pine tree. The sun was now rising and Stymphalian birds were flocking at the camp borders, unable to enter due to the magic barrier. The dragon that guarded the Golden Fleece was shying away from the yellow taxi soaked in blood. Clarisse offered her spear and Lou summoned a sturdy branch from the pine tree. Jonah smiled, thanked them, and threw together a makeshift gurney.  
Clarisse and a satyr held the gurney while Jonah checked for excessive bleeding and vitals. He was counting pulse and respirations while brushing broken glass off his body. "Alright, I'm pretty sure we can move him. Try to keep him steady, Lou, help please." They began to pull him off the hood, raining broken glass to the ground.  
He slid onto the gurney face down, Stymphalian feathers impeding the process. Eventually they are carrying him over the hill and to the infirmary. Aaron left the basement at about this time and nearly got steamrolled by Clarisse in the hall. They set him down on a table, where Will awaited with two of his siblings, Kayla and Liam. Several salves and simple surgical tools lay spread across a side table.  
Jonah picked up a pair of large tweezers and went to work. The man was unconscious, so the team decided that he wouldn't need something to alleviate pain. He awoke with a feral shout. He squirmed like he was trying to thrash his limbs. "I… I can't move my arm."  
Will nods, "It looks like a nerve got severed. See this one in his shoulder?"  
Jonah nodded, "Can you safely remove it?"  
Will glanced at Kayla, "Grab some nectar, sis."  
Jonah was skeptical and cautious, as usual. "We still don't know for sure he's a demigod," Jonah said as Will took the nectar.  
Will bent down to look at the face down stranger, "Are you dyslexic?"  
Rex nodded. "Good enough for me." Will ripped the feather out and poured nectar onto the wound, but blood still gushed from it. As the room's panic alleviated, Will began a rhythmic hum, bass notes filling the infirmary. Jonah recognized this as their work with Apollo. Kayla and Liam entered the melodious hymn. Kayla stitched wounds once Will was finished removing them. Liam did the same for Jonah. Will and Jonah were passing the nectar back and forth when he caught onto the hum and added his own.  
In the hall, the questing demigods waited in curiosity. A melodious, throbbing bass hum leaked through the thin, wooden walls. Chiron wheeled to May, tapped her on the shoulder, and gestured for her to follow. The two of them left.  
Cries of agony were copious, rupturing from the closed door in irregular intervals. Inside, four medics were working with fierce speed. Little did they know the trials above their heads.

May trudged through the thick darkness of the attic. It wasn't the kind of shadows she relished in, this darkness was malicious, oppressive. Chiron sat in his wheelchair behind a table. Trophies hung on the wall, hydra heads, dragon claws, fuzzy dice… May double-taked at the dice.  
"You are less optimistic than your brother. You've seen humankind in a less than stellar light, and you know what happens if you do not prevent the Fall."  
"Something really bad, I'm guessing."  
"Indeed," faint, blue light filtered through the window at Chiron's back, illuminating the top of his head but casting the ready of his face in shadows. "There are disturbing similarities to past events... Those of the Trojan War. Aaron is your opposite and complementary in many ways, and only the two of you together can stop the madness of war from infecting the innocent. The Trojan War ravaged Greece. I'm genuinely afraid of its impact on America."  
"I see."  
Chiron lifted a bronze spear from under the desk. It didn't glow like celestial bronze, but it was sleek and had a long, barbed head. "This belonged to one of my former pupils. Hector, brother to Paris and son of Priam, the king of Troy. He was not a demigod, but he was certainly blessed by them. He and Paris had trouble relating, but Hector looked after his passionate brother. You have to do the same. Aaron may very well cause conflict on an unfathomable scale. You, May, have to guide and protect him, and protect yourself. I fear that your fate may be that of Hector's as well."  
May shivered at a terror unknown to her. She took the spear from the desk and mumbled, eyes downcast, "Is that all?"  
"Yes. Good luck, May Clemens."  
"Thanks," she mumbled, and escaped the attic, reflecting on her many conflicted feelings for her brother, her complementary, unshakeable companion.


	9. 8: Die Another Day

Chapter 8 - Die Another Day

Rex was, unfortunately, hyper aware of his situation and every sensation. He could feel the jagged feathers tear his skin further when pulled from his muscles, then cool liquid would seep into the tissue. He heard a crisp voice cut through the painful haze and throbbing bass hum, "He's going into shock. Kayla, give him some heat." The air and his skin warmed considerably, when white steaks began to swim across his vision. He couldn't see, he realized. He couldn't feel the surgery either. Was this Death? It'd taken its sweet time, he thought.  
He was in a vast, white expanse with a spot of black hurtling towards him on the horizon. Rex felt his sword in his grip and braced himself. The black spot was revealed to be man, wrapped in a tattered black cloak and hood. Black, feathered wings stretched behind him. His skin and eyes were dark and he carried a sense of dread, but to Rex it felt like liberation. He halted in front of Rex.  
"Requiem Haze?"  
"I am."  
"I ain't got a lot of time to talk, son, 'cause it's not YOUR time, catch my drift?"  
Rex furrowed his eyebrows behind his aviator sunglasses. "Who are you?"  
"I'm Thanatos, or I'm trying to get Thane to catch on, ya know? You'd probably want to call me dad or something, I guess."  
Rex gritted his teeth. "You're... my father?" Rex swung his sword, wide and sloppy, at the god. Thane fell to the ground to avoid it.  
"Whoa! Where'd you get that sword?"  
"A hysminae," Rex pushed through clenched teeth, "What, is she actually my mother?" He struck downwards on his last word, and Thane rolled out of the way.  
"Son, don't make me use force."  
Rex took two more swipes, "Take your best shot, you son of a bitch!"  
The white realm wavered. "You're waking up. I want to say see you later, but that's sort of sentencing you to another near-death experience. I can't apologize for what's happened to you, Requiem. Death incarnate is a busy job, ya know."  
Rex charged with a vengeance now, only for the world to dispel. He jolted upright on the table in the infirmary. Jonah, Will, Kayla, and Liam were laughing and grinning. "Ha-hah! Camp Half-Blood one, Death zero!" The lean one said. The bright one was beaming.  
"Suck it, Thanatos," he bragged. Will and Jonah fist bumped over his confused body and went to breakfast to celebrate with Liam and Kayla, leaving the issue to Chiron. Since he was in the attic with May, the questing demigods entered the infirmary, empty except for Rex' heavy breathing.  
Rose sat down on the table at his side, facing him. "What's your name? Who are you?"  
He slowed his breathing with conscious act of will. "I- I'm Requiem Haze… I'm Rex."  
Lou interrupted, trying to keep the quest on her heart. "Are you the Deathspawn?"  
He looked at her through his dark sunglasses. His gaze chilled her spine but sent a rush through her, like when she fought in the Titan War. Unbridled adrenaline coursed through her and she could feel her pulse in every inch of skin. "I am. I am the son of Thanatos." The silence returned to the room and Rex' inquisitive nature welled again. "How does Death have kids?"  
Aaron smirked. "Veeeeeery carefully."  
Lou elbowed him without looking, keeping her eyes on Rex. Rose's sympathetic instinct was kicking in. "Rex, I know you're new to the demigod thing," Rose said, "But we have a really important quest that you have to be in."  
"Quests?" He seemed genuinely interested. "Is that why the god sent me here?"  
Aaron's mouth hung on a hinge at that. "You were sent by a GOD?"  
"His name was Plutus. He gave me a lot of money and the address to the camp."  
Rose registered the name in her academic mind. "Plutus, the god of wealth, particularly the riches under the earth. Where'd you get the sword?"  
"A hysminae named Clara." No expression flickered in his face with this statement. A testament to the oddity of being a demigod, Aurum mused. She was entertained by the thought until she laid her gaze on the aforementioned weapon, protruding from the bag at the tableside.  
It was as if cold lightning had been wrapped in indestructible, abysmal steel. Aurum could sense the impression of power, its history, like when she had seen Percy. It had reaped death spanning uncountable centuries and realms. 'Soulreaper…' it whispered in malevolence and darkness. Aurum was shuddering when she felt Rex. The demigod was enigmatic, with the thrill of freedom wrapped in depression and cynicism. His spirit was haunted and tortured, expressed solely in his unbridled hatred. She couldn't tear her eyes away, and was startled when she found he had met her gaze with his own. Silence had fallen as they examined each other.  
Rex saw the shadows cast by legacy. The deaths that had clung to her skin and followed the girl daily. She was a kind and understanding spirit, a contradiction to everything that she should be.  
Mutual understanding, fear, and respect emanated in their intuitive connection. Chiron then made his entrance on squeaking wheels, May on silent feet behind him. He rolled between the aisle of demigods and to Rex. "Who might you be?"  
Rex knew the type and dismissed him. The snarky old man who went on about his generation. That's what this was, right? Magic camp for warriors, for soldiers. He found his voice and hated unwittingly seeped in.  
"My name is Rex Haze, and I'm the son of Death."  
Chiron just smiled, a thrilling smile. "Good. I need to speak with you."

Percy crawled through the scalding sands of Tartarus, on hands and knees. He could make out what looked like a cavern roof in the sky, but the inky blackness still hung ominously over the horizon. Percy brushed away any morbid thoughts. He was the savior of Olympus, a Titanslayer. He wouldn't meet his end in this desert, no, he resolved. The plateau was within reach, just a quarter mile now. He would reach this plateau, some nice monster would give him directions to the nearest exit, he'd hop over an Underworld river and go his merry way, go home to his Wise Girl.  
Oh, Annabeth, he took a moment to pause and reflect on her. Her honey colored, curly hair and sweet scent… now replaced by the rotting stench of Tartarus. Her stormy grey eyes, distracted by a thousand thoughts until he caught her gaze. People tended to talk about Percy's eyes, but he knew Annabeth's were beyond comprehension. The eyes were the window to the soul, he'd heard. He assumed this meant Annabeth's soul was perfect, beautiful, complementary to his own.  
His Wise Girl. As the sands burned his palms and bare knees, as the incomprehensible, tangible evil of Tartarus bore down on his heart, all he could think about was not survival. It was Annabeth. When he got back, not if, when he got back, he would wrap her in his arms and never let go. He'd take her to the bottom of the lake, where they'd shared their first real kiss... Mount Saint Helens would be much less romantic, he thought.  
A wild crackling erupted behind him, echoing through the stillness of the desert. It grew louder, inhuman cries of agony began to accompany it. He turned around to see a blazing fire, dozens of meters high, racing across the desert. The scalding sands were transformed into glistening glass by the unnatural heat. Percy kicked into overdrive, scrambling to his feet and scattering sand all around. He sprinted to the plateau, the wildfire rolled at his heels. He was sprinting again, shoving through exhaustion. Air and arid smoke scorched his lungs and flames licked at his back. He reached the plateau, wincing as the heat scratched at his Achilles heel.  
He lept up and began to climb, the heat singing hairs on his legs. Within a few seconds he was above the fire, hanging on the craggy cliff. For a moment, he wasn't fleeing certain death. He was running to Annabeth. At that thought, he hauled himself up, his arms and legs burning with exertion, his heart painfully beating at his sternum. Annabeth was waiting. Annabeth… was… waiting.  
His Nikes were melting together, sticking to the rock as he climbed. The fire surrounded the plateau now and Percy hung over a sea of flames. Not his kind of sea, he thought. He hauled himself up to the plateau as evil laughter boomed from the roaring blaze. Hot winds buffeted Percy on the plateau. There are monsters in Tartarus so terrifying, no Greek could imagine them. He soon realized that his isolation was not as solitary as he thought.  
Three nude empousai were huddled on the ground, unshrouded by Mist. They stirred at the misplaced scent and slowly, groggily stood. Two stretched like cats awaking from a long slumber, while the third, who appeared to be their leader, glared daggers with her fiery eyes. Percy swore when recognition flickered in his mind. "Hiya, Kelli. Long time, no see!" His own voice felt foreign here.  
She hissed, and rushed him with unnatural speed. Percy shifted into a fighting stance, fists clenched. She sprung, not seeking to drain his life. She sought brutal vengeance. Percy was too slow and she tackled him to the ground, slicing at his face and chest with bloodstained claws. Her snarling fangs hung over his face, flinging saliva into his face. Kelli's claws sparked off of Percy's tanned skin, now reddened by the heat. Percy grabbed a speeding wrist and crushed it in his grip. She howled in pain and he gripped her shoulders and shoved her off of the plateau, where she dissolved into flames. He grinned at the relative ease of her defeat, a testament to his growth, until he recalled how empousai work.  
The other two did not forsake tradition, instead attempting to seduce him. They tried to flaunt their bodies and beguile him with sweet words, but Percy had a flawless defense. His Wise Girl, waiting. Annabeth was waiting. He rushed the two empousai. One was too surprised to avoid, and was caught by Percy's shoulder. She was reeling, while the other raked claws across his back. He briefly panicked at her proximity to his only vulnerable spot. He slung his upper body forward, kicking backwards with a leg and impacting square in the empousa's chest. She skidded across the stone while Percy once again went after the first empousa. He punched her twice, then kicked her off the plateau. She didn't dissolve, just fell with an animalistic cry of pain. The second empousa had made a comeback, grabbing Percy around the neck and draining his life.  
Air rushed out of his lungs and pain in his muscles began to fade away. His eyesight dimmed and the crackle of the fire quieted. Percy couldn't resist, he was miserable here. What could be worth trekking through this hell? What was worth Tartarus, worth fates more horrible than death?  
At least in death, he would be granted Elysium. Perhaps even the Isles of the Blessed, depending on his past lives, but here, in Tartarus?  
There was no hope. There was no sympathy. There was no life. There was only despair. There was only ignorance and apathy. There was only debauchery and death. In all that darkness and illness, how would Percy find the light to escape? Escape to... Escape... The throb of his heart ebbed away. Escape to what? He pulled what was left of him together. My name is Perseus Jackson. My birthday is August 18th, I'm from Upper East Side Manhattan. I'm the son of Poseidon... who was Poseidon? I'm... I'm in love with Annabeth Chase. And Annabeth Chase was waiting.  
His hands slid up the empousa's arms, that were constricting his neck and to the sides of her head. Percy pushed through the ache and twisted with all that was left in him. The empousa's neck gave way with a crack, and her arms snaked off of Percy. Kelli, reformed, clawed her way back onto the plateau. The lifeless ragdoll of her sister lay on the ground, the victorious and bloodthirsty son of Poseidon standing over her. "What the hell are you doing here, Perseus?" The name dripped from her lips with disgust. "Lose your way?"  
He looked at her through hair drenched with sweat, his sea green eyes sparkling with mischief and malintent. "I expected Tartarus to be worse. I mean, it's lethal and... a little indecent, but not what it's made out to be. I don't get why the gods are scared to come down here."  
"Oh, it'll get much worse. I imagine you were cast down here after the Titans shredded your camp to pieces?"  
"Oh, no, Kelli. It was your responsibility to look after Luke, keep him on your side. So it's pretty much your fault that the Titans lost."  
Kelli snarled, "What do you mean?"  
Percy smirked, relishing in toying with the monster instead of the other way around. "Luke killed himself. I bathed in the Styx. I killed Titans, and defeated armies with ease. I guess you haven't heard, but soon... All the monsters of Tartarus will fear Perseus Jackson, the Titanslayer and savior of Olympus."  
He had no clue what came over him. He didn't brag about his feats, they didn't matter. He was just doing what had to be done… but the look on Kelli's face was priceless. Fear was never an emotion he'd seen in a monster. She charged him, but he countered her swift speed with his own, Achilles supplemented. He grabbed her throat while she clawed wildly at his impenetrable skin. He landed two quick hits, his fist impacting like a machinated battering ram, while he spun her around, and then slammed her to the ground. The stone cracked and Percy straddled her, landing punch after punch. He grinned maliciously as blood spurted beneath his knuckles. A spout fired up, streaking his face and teeth. A thrill surged through his chest at the taste of blood not his own. The clouds in Percy's eyes drifted away, and his mind clicked. He jumped backwards and scrambled away from the bloody heap.  
He tried to reconcile himself. His name is Percy Jackson, and his Wise Girl is waiting. He lost himself in the Pit, allowed himself to be lost, and this was only the beginning. He stood, his shirt shredded across his chest and back, hair stuck to his forehead and ears and sweat dripped off his nose. Blood still striped his face. Percy stepped over to the edge, winds whipping at his body. He gripped his Camp Half-Blood necklace, the familiarity of home restoring him. Inky blackness hung at the horizon, taunting Percy. He may not have Annabeth to guide him, but he knew that the light was always at the end of a dark tunnel that liked to kill things.  
Percy whispered to the desert, his voice coarse, "Bring it on."  
_


	10. 9: This Is Home

**A/N**

 **The chapters are beginning to lengthen, and the story picks up soon. Thanks for bearing with me thus far, and review!**

Chapter 9 - This Is Home

Aaron was sick of the quest before it started. He was heading to the forest with Aurum to meet up with Grover. She was watching him oddly, and he didn't have a fondness for it. He couldn't help but notice how young she was. Thirteen, he thought, but he wasn't one to hypothesize. "How old are you, Aurum?"  
She didn't respond for a moment, just looked up at him with a glimmering in her eye. "I'm thirteen. What about you?"  
Aurum found Aaron different. Many people were humorous to distract from darker souls, but not Aaron. He was genuine in his altruism and kindness. It was inspiring, if she were to be honest with herself. He wasn't like her sibling. Both were facade-less beings of light and dark. "I'm sixteen," he said. "Turning seventeen soon," he grinned.  
Aurum decided that he was the guy in your class that bent over backwards to get your pencil for you, just because it was nice. "Do you drive? We'll probably need to on the quest, and I'm not sure if I trust Rex to do it."  
"Oh, yeah, his grand entrance. That's how it's done. So they said that Big Three kids were ultra powerful. What can you do?"  
She couldn't help but confide in him, his friendly and relatable grin. "I can't do anything like the Ghost King." She looked down and kicked a pinecone across the carpet of soft dirt and twigs. "I get sorts of feelings about people and things. It's not really useful, but it's something. More than I deserve, for sure." She cursed herself for sharing so much.  
Aaron grinned wider, "That's a super cool power. Me? I just go through stuff. I'd kill to know what people are feeling," he chuckled, "I'm oblivious. As for deserving, demigods don't deserve the hell they get. Things aren't in our control, for Pete's sake, we've got gods sitting around with the world on strings and Fate is in the basement weaving. It's not fair for us to blame ourselves, we can't control what happens to us." He saw her hopeful gaze and pieced together her story, and his voice softened. "Or the people we care about."  
Aurum hadn't sensed that. She was in awe, not expecting such wisdom from him.  
But he didn't expect depreciation from her.  
They continued in silence for a moment while Aaron began to regret opening up and sharing his thoughts like that. She nearly whispered when she finally spoke. "Thank you."  
He wanted to apply his lesson to the wretched, taboo prophecy. His jaw set when he thought of it. It said two Ghosts, right? He and May had to survive. It also said that Aurum and the Deathspawn, Rex, would prevail. He couldn't make sense of it, they were all subject to death, no matter their role in the prophecy. Aaron was overcome with dread and a hum in his throat and chest. Aurum sensed this emotional confliction in him.  
"You okay?" It was amazing how one conversation could unite people.  
"What do you think the prophecy means?"  
Aurum could tell he was afraid. "I think we'll be fine. They said Percy Jackson made a habit out of proving prophecies wrong. I don't see why we can't." Aaron smiled and they came upon a grove. The noon sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting lively emerald shadows on the ground and projected onto Aaron's and Aurum's faces. A satyr was sitting in solitude on a rock, pan pipes in hand. He wore a green Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, which Aaron decided he wanted way more than the orange one. The satyr sniffed the air, and he turned to peer at them with an uneasy gaze with an unrelated emptiness in his eyes.  
Aaron noticed this, and cracked a smile. The satyrs hated the smell of the Underworld, but he would try to soothe their worries. The satyr wiped away his mask of worry to reveal a friendly demeanor. "Hi! I'm Grover. I'm not really sure what I can do to help you on your quest, but Percy is in danger. It's gonna be scary, difficult, and it'll bring you guys together. You have to trust each other completely, or it won't end well. I know you can do it. Wait, where is everyone else?"  
"Training with Clarisse. The taxi guy is talking to Chiron," Aaron said.  
Grover nodded. "Okay, cool. So you're the son of Melinoe, and you're the daughter of Hades?"  
Aaron grinned with a, "Yep!" and Aurum nodded.  
"I've met your dad. And Percy's met your mom, Aaron. Hades is really different from the other gods, really dignified and honorable. A pretty good dude, if you ask me. Percy and Thals didn't have much nice to say about Melinoe, but a lot of gods are misunderstood. I used to think they were just jerks, but that's not always the case."  
"Are you not a god?" Aurum inquired. "You're the Lord of the Wild."  
"I wouldn't say a god," Grover smiled sheepishly, "I just have Pan's power. We all do, nature lives and thrives in all of us. It's pretty cool. I actually found him on one of our quests, in the labyrinth, but you're not here so I can tell you about my quests, you're here so that I can prepare you for what's to come. What's your plan?"  
"We're going to Yellowstone park, first, because we're not sure where the prophecy is telling us to go," Aaron explained, "and if that's not it, we're going to Hawaii, where we'll find Percy."  
Grover nodded in approval. "It sounds pretty straightforward."  
"We have to find Nico DiAngelo," Aurum said softly.  
The satyr's eyes widened, "Oh. That complicates a lot of things. D-Do you know where Nico is?"  
"Not a clue. Chiron just told us he's the 'Ghost King'," Aaron said.  
Grover stroked his wispy beard, "Demigods have a lot of prophetic dreams. You'll definitely find each other eventually. I suppose we could Iris Message him? Maybe we could find him now. There's a spring in Per-er, the Poseidon Cabin that we could use."  
Aaron kept his bright grin up, "Lead the way!"  
As they began the long walk, Aurum mused on what she would say to Nico DiAngelo. One of the campers say that he was the real MVP of Manhattan. He convinced the armies of the Underworld and Hades himself to aid Camp Half-Blood, a monument to the power of his Olympian family that ostracized him. She disregarded that, she didn't like to think of Camp Half-Blood as a monument. Should a person be defined by their being a demigod? They're often defined by their godly parent alone. It's not like it's an escapable label, dyslexia, monster attraction, and ADHD will still haunt them. She decided that who was she to question such things, let alone answer them. They arrived at the cabin, that looked like a stone and coral bunker. Grover stared at the door for a moment while the salty sea breeze tugged at the trio.  
Grover closed his eyes tight and grabbed the door handle. "Poseidon, please don't turn me into a puffer fish," he mumbled and pulled the door open. The smell of the beach wafted into their nostrils, gentle, but carrying the promise of power. Bunk beds lined one wall, and windows filled with aquatic plants and corals lined the other. The Minotaur horn was mounted on the wall over Percy's bed. The walls shone abalone, swirling and jagged hues of green, blue, orange, white, and purple. A dented shield, depicting adventures in the Sea of Monsters, lay on Percy's messy bed. A saltwater spring carved from gray stone was set in the wall at the far end, with the soothing sound of trickling water and a misty rainbow.  
"Anybody got a drachma?" Grover asked. "Oh, wait, there are some in here." He gingerly reached into the warm water and fished out a golden coin. Aurum was excited at the thought of seeing her legendary brother. Grover gripped the drachma in a balled fist and said, "O, Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, show me Nico DiAngelo." He flipped the coin into the mist and it broke into a thin veil, depicting a foggy morning in a coniferous forest. Mist rolled off of the trees and spears of sunlight danced through the veil. A deafening rumble and whine, almost identical to a jumbo jet taking off, pierced the silent dawn. A dark man fell from the sky, obliterating trees. The dark clad figure stood, clothed in a dark brown aviator jacket and wielding a long, Stygian blade. He rolled his shoulders as hell hounds and demons burst from the trees on all sides. A hell hound landed on his back, and he hurled it into the wreckage of trees. After that, he danced through the army of monsters, leaving clouds of drained essences and dark blood behind him. The monster that had thrown him lumbered through the trees, a massive cyclops as tall as a typical McDonald's sign and holding a bronze club.  
Nico pulled his sword out of a smoky demon, and turned to the cyclops. Without losing momentum, he spun and hurled his sword at the cyclops. It tumbled end over end until it squelched into the creature's eye to the hilt. As soon as the sword left his grip, the bronze club came crashing down. Nico crouched to the the ground, digging his fingers into the empty monster dust and wet dirt, searching for strength. The club crashed into the ground at the same moment the sword stuck in its eye.  
Aurum yelped and Aaron stared, wide-eyed. Grover was slack jawed. Through the misty screen, they could hear a grunting noise above the cyclops' shouts of pain and agony. Nico was slowly pushing the club off himself, trembling. With a final shout he shoved the gargantuan weapon to the side. The cyclops swung his meaty fist through the thick trees, smashing them. He made contact with Nico, and sent him flying backwards directly through the vapor screen, causing the visage to shatter and dissipate. There was stunned silence before the mist spoke cheerfully, "The recipient is unavailable at this time. Try again later!"  
Grover pulled himself together first, "He's busy, I think."  
Aaron let out a bellowing laugh, "I'd say so! That was insane!"  
Aurum noticed Grover's eyes were even emptier. "You want to call him, don't you? Wasn't he your friend?"  
Grover stared at her for a moment, and mumbled, "Yes. He was my best friend."  
Even Aaron had fallen into silence. Aurum continued with her unwavering gaze into Grover's heart. "Call him," she whispered.  
Grover's already dripping hand found its way back to the fountain. He didn't break eye contact until he found a drachma and half-heartedly threw it into the mist. "O, Iris.… Goddess of the Rainbow, show me Percy Jackson." The mist, instead of forming a docile sheet, spiraled and jabbed outward chaotically. The vapor filled dark red like blood and the spring water bubbled and boiled. The red fog poured from the fountain and covered the carpeted floor. Sporadic pulses and howls and screams erupted from the fountain, and the gray stone cracked, straight down the middle and the mist was sucked back in as if a giant had sharply inhaled. Where water should have flowed from the break, thick, red blood oozed from the crevice.  
Absolute silence suppressed the air. The voice tore the silence, shaking. "The recipient is… is unavailable at th-the time."  
"We need to leave," Grover said, rapidly backing to the exit. He turned and stormed out of the cabin. Aaron and Aurum followed him to the mess hall for lunch. As they pedaled down the emerald hills, Grover told them, "The fountain was a gift. It was a gift from his father. And Percy... Percy is somewhere awful. You guys go to lunch, relax and chill this mess off. I need to talk to Chiron." He trotted off, leaving Aaron and Aurum to contemplate what they had just seen. They'd witnessed Tartarus.

Chiron felt like he was looking at Achilles. Granted, Achilles had pale blue eyes, and Rex' were covered by black, reflective, aviator sunglasses. Greasy black hair, check. Affinity and love of death, check. In fact, the similarities were slightly concerning. The temper, for sure, would cause issue, but Chiron couldn't help but be concerned that his fate would be similar. Or was Rex even meant to follow the path of Achilles? Chiron despised the ancient histories that rise and threaten these children. The past should have been left alone, too many perished and lost for war to just repeat itself.  
They were seated across from each other in the Rec room, the ping pong table between them. The jaguar head on the wall whimpered away from the teenager.  
"Do you know where you are, Rex?"  
Rex was leaned back in his chair, gaze frozen and voice monotone. "Magic camp."  
Chiron had never met a son of Thanatos. He truly wasn't sure what to expect, but he was quickly piecing together the type of person Rex was.  
"While magic is integral to the camp, I believe you'll find Camp Half-Blood's purpose far more riveting. This is a not only a shelter, but preparation for the lives ahead of demigods. Sometimes, ah, they go on to be great things, presidents, celebrities, or even lead normal lives. You, however, are not so fortunate."  
Rex inclined his head and leaned forward. "I never expect to be."  
Chiron smiled in his usual, polite demeanor. "Occasionally, there are quests. They were forbidden for quite some time because of hazardous outcomes, but became almost annual around six years ago, the year Percy Jackson arrived. He was more of a leader in this camp than I was, and I have little shame in admitting it. Do you recall anything odd a couple years ago around Manhattan?"  
"What, like the weird time things? Conspiracy theorists went wild with it. Something about aliens altered time so they could survey Manhattan. I don't buy into it, but with all this stuff I've seen lately, I'd say something went on."  
"Something certainly happened. The demigods of Camp Half-Blood stood against an army of monsters and Titans, the cruel immortals that preceded the Olympian gods-"  
"Hold up," Rex gestured, "So all this polytheistic stuff, it's… true?"  
"The Greeks, yes. You mentioned you met one?"  
"Said his name was Plutus. What does that mean?"  
"Plutus is the minor god of wealth, I'm fairly sure he sided against Olympus in the war, but… he is considered a Cthonic god."  
"Meaning?"  
"Every quest has a prophecy. Yours begins, 'The Children of the Cthonic gods shall rise together against all odds. A lethal quest they will embark upon, To free the sole savior of gods.' Cthonic gods are those that make their home in the Underworld."  
"So where we're supposed to go and what we'll do is laid out by this prophecy?"  
"Indeed." Chiron was intrigued to see exactly how cunning Rex was.  
"Against all odds, right? It wasn't exactly easy, I suppose. I can't imagine Underworld kids are liked. Who is the savior of gods?"  
Chiron smiled sadly. "The greatest of all the heroes I've trained. Percy Jackson not only had the power, but the true heart of a hero. If you desire to know more, the campers speak of him with awe and high regard. He is trapped in the hell that is Tartarus, a place of unimaginable horrors."  
"So he's in trouble. What's a Gaea?"  
"She is the protogenos, a primordial goddess, of earth."  
"And that's where we find this Percy Jackson. It sounds pretty simple."  
"I hope it will be. Unfortunately, I… It may be a harmless quest, but I'm almost certain it's something very, very bad." Chiron coughed in a manner meant to change the subject. "What can you do, Rex? I've never met a son of Thanatos, and I'm quite curious of your gifts."  
"I've never really thought about it. I can feel death, and suffering. I can feel it in and on people, and I can sense things in people, like the capacity for death or chunks of emotion or personality. Then there's the high. When I killed stuff, like the monsters, I was more focused and had more energy and… I wanted to do it again."  
Achilles for sure, Chiron thought. "I see. And you've run away from home, I assume?"  
"Don't have one. I lived off the streets in Chicago."  
"And your mortal mother?"  
"Dead."  
The boy had nobody. "Many children find this place to be both rich in family and the home they've desired. Take a walk around, make a friend, enjoy the camp. There's a shower upstairs, second door on the left, I think I can find a son of Nemesis to give you clothes. Or considering your size, you may want to pay the Hercules cabin a visit before you leave for the quest tonight. If you miss lunch at the mess hall just come by here and I'll have something for you, and you can pick a team at Capture the Flag tonight." Chiron wheeled backward and turned. "I have several matters to attend to before you all leave. Rose will be more than apt to teach you about the Olympians."  
Rex nods. He went to leave, swinging his blood red backpack over his shoulder. Chiron noticed the hilt protruding from the bag. His face fell grave. "Rex. Where did you get that sword?"  
"It was given to me by a hysminae named Clara."  
"Neither that blade nor the hysminae should exist. They have been extinct since the American Revolution, and even then they only appeared to those destined to soon die in battle. And as for that sword... I cannot speak of it."  
"If there was real danger in the weapon, you would tell me. Obviously it's not as dangerous as you make it to be, and Clara saved my life, she didn't put it at risk."  
Chiron sunk, defeated by Fate's will. He recognized its vindictive hand after seeing it strangle the life of so many heroes. Rex felt more than noticed the sad, quiet disposition. "I'll try not to use it or anything. I mean, I've been using it and nothing has happened so far. And for Clara, I don't believe in destiny. The hope it gives has no place in my life. I won't die in battle, because my fate is my own."  
Chiron smiled. The boy was not defeated. The boy was strong. "Perhaps my concerns are misplaced. Good luck to you, Rex Haze. I believe you'll take interest in the armory or the climbing wall, after your shower." Chiron rolled out of the Rec Room, and Rex staggered his exit by examining the room. It was thick with violence from a dark time. As per usual with such sensation, he shrugged it off and left.  
Rex found his way to creaking, wooden stairs and followed Chiron's instructions. A bathroom bathed in white and shades of yellow lay before him, and he switched the shower on immediately. The last time he'd had a real shower, he'd broken into a motel room over a month ago. The room smelled of a sweet vanilla and felt so cozy. It was weird for Rex. He tugged his filthy, torn shirt over his head, jostling his sunglasses. His jeans were constantly stiff with sweat, having rarely been changed. He pulled them and his undergarments from his legs, and looked into the mirror. He faced himself, and stroked a finger across the wire rim of his congenial eyewear. His glasses had been stationary on his face for months. Gingerly, with both hands, he pinched the hinges and pulled them from his face.  
Liquid silver irises peered back at him through adjusting eyes. They reflected light, almost luminous. He hated the light in them, it was too inviting. He didn't want anyone invited. This face was so unfamiliar to him, he'd seen himself in passing reflections, face obscured with smudges of dirt and sunglasses. His square jaw and the sparse, awkward facial hair of a genetic oddity and vagrant was unfamiliar. His eyes were unfamiliar. He laid his glasses down on the sink and stepped into the shower. The sheer pleasure of hot water washing away stench and filth from his broad back nearly had him on the floor. He inhaled sharply and turned around to let the water pour across his face and forehead. His hands found their way to a bottle of shampoo. He made quick use of it by cleansing his thick hair of dirt and oil. It felt surprisingly soft under his fingers, of course, he hadn't had it so clean since his last foster home, he mused as he grasped a bar of soap. When he thought about it, home wasn't the right word. Or was a home nothing more than the place he put his feet up? A problem for another day, he decided.  
Faintly, he detected the door gliding on inaudible hinges. Demigod-brand fighting instinct kicked in. There was silence, then a shift of fabric. His sword was in his bag. Approximately two yards away. His muscles tensed and he shifted his weight. He dove through the shower curtain, and rolled across the floor. In a fluent movement, he snatched the black hilt and halted on one knee. At the end of his blade was a startled camper with clothes in his arms. Rex knelt and the camper stood, frozen and breathless. Water dripped from Rex' muscular arms and shoulders. The camper was frozen in a liquid silver gaze.  
"My bad." Rex stood.  
"Jus bringin' clothes, mate." He set the bundle down, grabbed Rex' old clothes to wash, and exited, leaving Rex with chills and twitching muscles. He decided he was clean and shut the shower off. He grabbed a towel, dried himself, and dressed in the clothes brought to him. The bright orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt stretched over his large, athletic body. He pulled on white shorts and socks and examined the sink. He found a razor and hoped it was magic. After a few minutes of putting it to use, he evaluated his appearance.  
He mistook himself for an average, happy, bright teenager. Light shined in his eyes and off his clean, tanned face. His black hair was soft and thick now, and swept across his forehead and ears. Uncomfortable with the image, he put his sunglasses back on. Great, now he looked like an average, happy, bright teenager at the beach. His glasses had lost their intimidating aura but not their functionality.  
He scowled at seeing the shoes given to him: bright orange and pearl white Nike tennis shoes to match his shirt. He sighed and pulled them on. He was surprised at their comfort. Maybe he could get used to them. He shrugged his backpack on and left the room. The first thing that crossed his mind was the girl that sat by his side when he woke up. The girl with cyan eyes. That was a good start, he thought, but he decided not to feed his impulsive infatuation. It would lead to little good. He descended the stairs, but the house was empty except for a satyr or two. Rex double taked at the legs. One brayed at him with hostility. Rex only had to flare his nostrils in response for the goat to shrink.  
He stepped out onto the porch, where a voice like a smooth ray of sunshine called for him. "Requiem Haze?"  
Rex halted and turned, "Rex."  
"Wilhelm Solace. We all got weird names, bro. I prefer Will."  
Rex took a liking to Will. While he was a bit sunny, there was a dark, hidden edge. The pink-red stained bandages wrapped around his knuckles were indicative. Neat, light blond hair sat atop a handsome face and sky blue eyes. He wore his usual striped red muscle shirt and khaki shorts. "I'm the guy that brought you back from the dead."  
Rex saw opportunity for banter. Chiron said to make a friend. "Thanks for that. My dad's a dick."  
Will smiled widely, with trademark Apollo teeth. "Aren't they all?" The Sun's light seemed to grow harsher. Will scowled at the sky. "Anyway, I'm supposed to rank you on combat and fitness. So Arena or climbing wall, bro?"  
Rex looked out at crimson and emerald strawberry fields tangled until the azure sea. "Climbing wall, yeah."  
"Excellent. Maybe if we push that then I can get Chiron to shift your combat test to Capture the Flag. Sun's gonna set in a couple of hours and then we'll play."  
Rex and Will hiked across grassy hills until they reach the climbing wall. If they were in public, they'd appear as painfully normal, falsely content teens. They arrived at the climbing wall, where only an agility class of five was being taught. Will and Rex ignored them. "Tips," Will said, "Don't look down. Stay to the left side to avoid the lava. Don't extend your legs so you don't get stuck."  
"Did you say *lava*?"  
Will just grinned with blinding teeth and slapped him on the back. "Have fun, bro."  
Rex tensed himself and lept up the wall. He climbed quickly and relentlessly, before he tired. Halfway up, lava spurted from the wall and seared his forearm. His weight dropped and jerked at his shoulder. He was clinging to the wall by one arm. He quickly found footholds, but his extended legs were useless. Pain pierced his arms, and he pulled himself higher, elbow under tremendous pressure. With a heave, he pushed himself up. Climbing one handed was more difficult. His left arm wasn't his dominant one anyway, but now it was his only functional one. He climbed in short jumps, planting his feet on the wall and quickly grabbing another handhold before he fell too far back. Will was on the ground, in awe. When Rex finally made it to the top, the Sun was below the clouds but hovering over the horizon. He rolled himself onto the peak and lay gasping for air for a minute. He finally sat up, looking over the entirety of the camp.  
Jade forests laid like lively carpet across one half, and rolling hills, Greek buildings, and scarlet strawberry fields covered the rest. Beyond that, the dark sea extended to the periwinkle sky and orange sun, to the pink and yellow streaked clouds above. Not a bad sunset, Rex thought. Maybe, he thought, maybe this could be home.  
He stood, the winds gently ruffling him at such a height. He stood strong, looking over a camp he was destined to fight for. Yes, he thought. This is home.  
A couple moments passed before he peered over the edge. "SOLACE! How the hell do I get down from here?!"

_


End file.
